Follow Me Through This Big Freeze
by Fezzes64
Summary: A wintery Valentine's day...England remembers America's first colonising days with a warm heart despite the storm, as well as giving him one of his favourite holidays. But in the meantime, he forgets the time and stares out of his window on the present-day, wishing things could be full of love for he and America once more. Usuk memories!


_"Big Brother! B-b-big brother-rrr-brrr!" a high-pitched, shrill and frightened voice cried from outside, startling the man who was being called._

_He immediately stood up and raced to the front of the cabin, eyes wide with panic. He nearly tripped in his hurry, but managed to grip the entrance and rip it open to usher the newcomer inside without really seeing who it was. Although he knew all too well._

_"America!" he scolded, quickly shutting the door before any of the blizzard could get inside. "What in the name of sanity are you doing out there?! You could freeze a leg off in this weather!" he knelt down in front of the shaken child to dust snow off the poor boy and brushed hair out of his eyes. "What were you thinking?! I specifically remember telling you to stay with the colonists!" his voice softened slightly as the young nation's expression simply fell and he blinked those big blue eyes of his up at his brother. Taken aback a little by this reaction he pulled the smaller into his chest and hugged the shivering soul._

_"But I wanna stay with you, big brother…" America mumbled to Britain's shoulder, still trembling just slightly. "I feel safer with you, and the other people are scary!"_

_"There are a lot more scarier things than just people here," Britain said sternly, giving America a disapproving and dark look. But before he could go on, the little nation had hid his face in the elder's wool jacket, probably still feeling cold. So, Britain rolled his green eyes and shook his head, chuckling as he scooped up the little boy to give him a blanket further in the temporary dwelling. "Nevermind. You warm up here, and I'll get you something to eat."_

_He smiled warmly and patted a giggling America's head, then stood up to head behind him. Out of America's line of sight, he winced and looked around worriedly._

_He had led these people here, the colonists who were living as he was. He was here because he was going to help America grow up as a nation, through the twists and turns so he could live on his own without help, eventually. He had expected a harsh winter up in the Northern parts of the country, so he instructed the newcomers to construct cabins and little houses for themselves and their families before it was too late. It was a good thing too; many more would have died at this point if they hadn't._

_But, being England, the instinct to protect America became overpowering. He didn't want the little boy to suffer like he did as a child. He didn't want him to know what hunger was, what it felt like to be frozen. He needed all the help he could get, so idealizing the whole 'Fully-Fledged Nation' goal to the people allowed them to feel the same way. So the colonists were on his side._

_The only problem was food was short. And America had already had his helping today. England had regretted to mention the whole idea of rationing to him, so he wouldn't have understood at first. Nevertheless, Britain didn't hesitate to give America his own serving, as he had for the past five days._

_"I'll be right back!" he called as he grabbed his old green cloak and rushed to the door, trying not to look at America as he went._

_"But you could freeze a leg off in that weather!" he heard his little brother call from the other side just as he reached the door._

_Britain stopped, but didn't turn around. "...Are you getting cheeky on me, America?" he asked, smiling as he remembered those had been his exact words._

_"No, sir!" America replied gleefully, and England laughed as he exited the miniature house towards the white storm outside._

_America had to stay strong if he was going to survive, he told himself as he gritted his teeth and shielded his face from the sudden rush of wind, making snow fly about him like spindly fingertips. Already shivering, he carefully made way to the shed just across from his little den, where a couple of the people were already gathering. He was struggling, as the snow was deeper than he'd originally thought. So his progress was stiff and stalled._

_Everyone looked up as he eventually stumbled in to join them, his blonde hair matted with snow, and face and fingers pale. Finally catching his balance on the dark wooden floor, he weakly mumbled an apology before heading towards the kind woman who made a huge pot of soup for everyone everyday. She was an honorable young lady; she worked so hard to make as big a batch as she could out of what was available. It was never half-bad either; everyone was lucky to have such a talented cook here. She smiled at him as he approached and offered a bowl that had been ready for him._

_"Mr. England?" someone asked from behind._

_"Mmm? Yes? What is it?" he turned around, confused._

_"You're giving yours to the boy again, right?" asked the old man, looking up at him as he shivered. A young girl, presumably his granddaughter, was holding a blanket around his shoulders in hopes of keeping the poor man warm._

_England nodded. "I have to." he replied nonchalantly, tilting his head just slightly. He turned his body so he was fully facing the man and blinked. "Why do you ask?" He mentally winced as he realised how defensive that sounded._

_The aged elder made a move to stand, and nearly fell as soon as he did. It was good the little girl was there to keep him up as he suddenly held out his own bowl, smiling with old eyes. "Take mine. You should eat, too." he said softly, his hand trembling from the effort. Britain was taken aback with shock and took a small step behind him._

_"N-no, I can't do that!" he exclaimed. "You need it a lot more than I do. Thank you, though." he turned heel and made a move to leave, but the old man stopped him once more._

_"Mr. England...I'm a dying old man, ill and weak. There's nothing better I could do, nothing more I would like to see. Consider it a gift for Valentine's day. Please take it." his voice was low, and dead serious._

_Britain turned again and marched right up to the colonist. His eyes shone with time-old grief and ancient sorrow. Centuries full of regret. "I will not." he stated firmly, his jaw clenching. "I will not lose another one of you here, so you take it and you eat because I refuse to accept it even if you offer it to me. I need you here more than you think. America can't grow if there's no one like you to live here." he couldn't help but mentally wince at how shaky his voice was, as it cracked. However, with an expression as hard as flint, he huffed and turned his back with finality._

_"America can't grow without you," the old man countered sadly. "You're all he talks about. He idolizes you, he loves you. You need to be strong to live up to his expectations."_

_England bit back a cry, and instead made a soft choking sound in his attempt to simply be sombre. "I will not make any of you suffer any more than you have to on his behalf. I can't! I'm already going too far above what rights I have over you; asking anything further would be inhumane." he concluded with finality. He opened the door, causing the storm to try to stuff itself inside through the nation who stood in it's way._

_The tears that fell from his eyes as he made a move to depart froze painfully on his cheeks. Grimacing into the harsh storm, he lowered his head in his pain and suffering that made his chest burn, his heart ache._

_"He doesn't just have to be your responsibility," the old man tried one more time, but despite halting for one moment in the doorway, England bitterly drove on, letting the wind push the portal shut behind him._

_He marched through the storm, at the most furious speed the heavens would allow. But, as his respective dwelling faded into view, he paused and looked around him, flinching into the overwhelming current of air._

_And as he stopped, time seemed to freeze around him, as cold as the ice and flurries flying past. He looked before him, at the swath of white surrounding the colony, the sparkling, ever-changing blanket. The simple beauty of it was breathtaking, but...It was the sublimity that really moved the nation. It was him, standing purely alone on this day, here. He could have stayed forever, but seeing his precious, sweet, compassionate little brother in his mind's eye, he drove on, not wanting to leave him alone any longer._

_He entered as swiftly as he could, feeling his knuckled going numb and wishing for cool water to warm them up in. Closing his eyes for a second to sigh, he shuffled weakly towards the living area, prying the bowl from his frozen fingers._

_"Here," he said softly, almost whispering because of the storm as he approached America. "Eat."_

_His brother grinned a thank-you up at him and skipped towards the fire, to heat it up as he did with every meal. With a fond smile, England trudged to his original seat and watched the little boy with loving eyes as he thawed himself out. He could deal with this pain if it meant this young, flourishing life America was could become the great and powerful country England had dreamed to be._

_He looked up as if remembering something, trying to recall what he was doing before the American had fled to his house. Glancing down at his side, he found the little blanket he was making; a soft blue, near-perfect knit. A big heart was embroidered in the centre, and he had sewn a satin sheet on the other side. He was almost finished with it; he had been trimming and knotting the edges together._

_America had already migrated to the table, where he usually ate. England couldn't see him, but he knew this because of his disappearance from the fireplace that he was there. As he finished the blanket, he stood and took a big breath before walking slowly around the corner._

_The little nation was there, as expected, but the still-steaming bowl sat at arm's length from him, as if he'd pushed it away. He didn't look up as England entered. He just stared, very intently at the soup. So, with a small smile, Britain approached and gently draped the blanket across his shoulders, as not to startle him._

_He couldn't help a small chuckle as America grinned and hugged it close. "What's this for?" he asked childishly, observing the heart on it and feeling over it with his fingertips._

_"A holiday I started celebrating a few centuries ago, called Valentine's Day. It's a day when you give things to people you love," the Brit explained, kneeling next to the younger. "I thought you might like something warm to go around with." he gave a side-glance towards those big blue eyes, and got a thrilled laugh in return._

_"So you give things...to people you love," he repeated, making sure he was correct. Assured by England's nod, he continued. "Well...Here." he pushed the bowl of soup towards Britain._

_"A-America, I can't take this," England started to lecture him. "This is for you to eat so you don't go hungry. You don't want to starve, do you?" he laughed nervously._

_America shook his head. "No," he replied. "But I already ate. Earlier today, remember?" his eyes sparkled playfully._

_"Quite well," England sighed. "But this is so you don't feel hungry."_

_"But then you'll feel hungry." America countered._

_"You need it a lot more than I do." Britain felt this was becoming an argument._

_"No," America pushed the bowl even closer, still smiling. "You haven't eaten for a week!"_

_"But this is yours! I got it for you!" England pushed it back, not realising America knew._

_America crossed his arms and grinned. "I'm not hungry," he said gleefully with finalty, and a satisfied tone._

_Britain blinked at him in shock, leaning back a little. He widened his eyes in disbelief as America stood up from his chair and moved beside England, waiting for him to take his place._

_He did. England, who refused to lose an argument or a fight, who never could give into defeat, who was as stubborn as nation-ly possible. And yet, he gave in to his little brother. Perhaps the old man was right; he didn't have to suffer just for the sake of America._

**O~o~O**

"Britain...? Britain!" a voice snapped, startling the Brit out of his memories, out of the lowered, sad gaze out of his frosted window.

"Mmm? Oh, what? Yes, sorry, love..." England muttered. "I...was thinking for a second."

"Five minutes," America corrected in a rather miffed tone through the phone. "Do I have to ask again?"

"Umm, yes. I wasn't listening, love. I apologise."

America sighed; England was reminiscing again. He only ever called him 'love' in that instance. The only reason he was so annoyed was because he'd asked a question that he'd been so nervous to ask. So, with a big breath, he repeated his inquiry, fingering the soft blue blanket in his hands, and rubbing over the big heart in the centre.

"Would you mind coming over to my place for Valentine's day?"

* * *

**Well, then XD I suppose that was an appropriate way to end...Happy Valentine's day! I'll update other stories to, but this one just kind of exploded out of my head, through my fingers and on the page XD This was completely inspired by our one snow day we had down here in Texas, and the fact I wanted some fluffy stuff...I dunno XD Enjoy le cuteness~! Love you guys so much! :D**

**~Fezzes64**


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